


open arms

by LunchLich



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Blue-Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28971273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunchLich/pseuds/LunchLich
Summary: Hawke needs to make a visit to Anders clinic.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	open arms

**Author's Note:**

> TW for self harm (the act is not shown, just talk of the injury existing and scars)

Well, isn't this just peachy. 

It isn't healing right. No matter how many times he bandages it, it ends up bleeding again. As soon as it starts to heal he runs into another fight, and the strain on his arm from swinging his stave pulls it apart again. 

The bad news? He's got about as much talent for healing as he does for keeping houseplants. His skin would end up looking like the wilted ferns outside hus room if he tried to heal himself. The good news? He knows someone who - to keep with the analogy - has a green thumb.

That news isn't as good as it could be, really, because he hasn't known Anders all that long and this feels extremely personal. Then again, the lanky blonde had told him plenty the day they met and he has little choice unless he wants it to get infected - if it isn't already.

When he visits the clinic in Darktown, Anders isn't helping a patient like he expects him to be. He sits at a desk, hurriedly scrawling something over a piece of parchment. He jolts before Hawke has a chance to announce himself and whips around in his seat. The candle at his desk flickers with his movement. "Hawke." He states, something like relief in his voice. His rigid, alert posture relaxes into a hunch. "Out on another late night? I'd be happy to join you, if you'll give me a moment to put this awa-" 

"No, no. I'm here as a client, if you'll have me." 

The other mage seems taken aback at first, his eyebrows raised with curiosity and his head cocked. Nonetheless, his smile is welcoming. "Sit up here, then," Anders gestures to one of the tables he's seen other patients lay on. "It'll feel more official. What's going on? If it's the stomach bug that's been making it's rounds, no need to worry, it'll pass in a few days."

"It's an injury. I keep irritating it, but I'm afraid if I try to heal it myself I'll end up losing my arm or something. I need help from the miracle-man."

"You're in the right place, then." Anders snorts. "Let's see it."

Hawke feels something akin to stagefright as he removes his shirt to expose his bicep and all the scars that litter it. Anders' face shows no disdain or surprise, keeping a neutral expression as he examines him. His fingers wrap around his arm just above the elbow, turns his arm to assess the newest wound. He keeps his gaze focused on it when he asks, "Blood magic?"

He shakes his head and starts preparing his spiel. He'd already given it to Carver, once when he noticed a few years back. He tries to remember how he'd simplified the complex explanation, how he'd tried to explain that it's much like the poor saps who never seem to leave the Tavern. That it's a way to numb the pain. He's preparing himself for the 'Yes, I'm well aware this isn't a good thing, but i've started and now I can't stop' speech.

He doesn't have to give it, though. Anders doesn't ask, only gives a thoughtful hum as he places his hand over the wound. It stings at first, then tingles, then goes warm. When the other mage moves his hand it was like it was never there. Not even a scar. When he flexes his arm, it doesn't sting or pull. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Hawke. My clinic is always open to you, whether it's to talk or to be healed, I won't make judgements either way. Even if it's only to prevent more scarring." 

"I- I appreciate that. I might take you up on that, Anders." He awkwardly slips his shirt on once more. He hadn't known what to expect when he came to him with this, but this reaction certainly wasn't it. Here he was expecting confusion or a 'don't do it again', and Anders is exceeding his expectations. "I wasn't expecting you to be so understanding." He lets the phrase fall honestly from his lips.

"It's more common around here than you'd like to believe." Ander's eyes hold the sadness of a man who's speaking from experience. It makes sense. The vast majority of his patients are Fereldan refugees, those who find work in The Blooming Rose, or Apostates - sometimes a combination of the three - it isn't surprising that people with such difficult lives fall into it. "It's something of an epidemic amongst mages in particular. I saw it plenty in the Circle, why would I judge someone's suffering rather than find sympathy for them?" 

"I-... In my defense, my only point of reference for reacting to-" He gestures loosely to his arm. "-this, is Carver. He didn't quite understand at first. It was all 'well just stop it' and 'that's not doing you any good, is it?'" He puts on his best (very, very bad) mockery of his brother's voice. It gets a huff of a laugh out of the other mage, and the sound is so  _ good _ , so easy on his ears that he can't help but smile. 

"Fair enough. You'll only find open arms and open ears, here."

Hawke doesn't know if he'll actually take him up on it or not. He isn't sure if he's ready, nor if he'll be able to talk himself into opening up when he's really struggling. He's willing to try, though, when Anders holds an arm out to him and offers a hug. That, he'll take him up on.

  
  



End file.
